The Queen's Kore
by Becky Sky
Summary: Persephone is Queen of the Underworld, Carrier of Curses, Commander of Demons and Ghosts;strong,powerful. Yet she came from the sweet, bubbly Kore, Demeter’s Daughter. How did she change? The answer lies with Kore herself, and Hades, the god she loved...
1. Spring to Life

**A/n: So I've always loved the myth of Hades and Persephone, but many stories retell what we already know. But has anyone ever thought how sweet, mild-mannered Kore became the tough, Iron Queen of the Underworld, who commanded ghosts and demons? Well, this is my version of the Hades and Persephone romance, and it's not always smooth sailing. So those looking for fluff aren't going to get it. Sorry.:P But please read it anyways and tell me what you think!~Becky**

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**T****he Queen's Kore **

"**Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone-we find it with another."- Thomas Merton **

The Queen of the Underworld could feel Winter's grasp weakening on the earth above, could see the soil stirring from its months of freeze. She could hear the popping of flowers into the meadows that ceilinged her kingdom. Her own skin bloomed with freshness, its usual icy pallor reddening with health, as though pomegranate juice dribbled across her cheeks. Her black hair glistened across her shoulders, streaked with vibrant spring colours of red and yellow and purple.

Persephone, Queen of Iron, Carrier of Curses, stretched in her stone throne and smiled. To her left, her husband frowned, eyeing her sidelong with his dark, intelligent gaze. He did not like this time of year, when she was out of his sight and control. When she was younger, known to her fellow maidens as Kore, she had fallen deep into the abyss of those fathomless eyes. She had followed him like a lamb into his home, fallen into his arms like a lovesick bird. It was she who had caused worldwide pain and suffering; she, the weak and flowery, fickle and stupid Kore.

It had been her beauty that caught Hades' eye, not her wits. It had been her fresh, breezy lifestyle that had captured his heart. However, living in the Underworld had required many things, intelligence and power only some of them.

Now the trouble for Hades lied not in attaining his wife, but keeping her. She had become her own master as she learned the extent of her authority.

Now she met his gaze squarely, confident in her own person. He had little rule over his wife, little say in her actions. Hades may rule the Underworld, she thought smugly, but it is I who rules his heart and drives him raving mad.

"Must you go?" he asked in a low voice, his tone light with hope.

She laughed in disdain. "My Lord Hades," she purred, "why would you miss me when you may take a nymph to your bed?"

Her husband shifted uncomfortably, but he did not avert his gaze. She may be my wife, he thought grimly, but I rule this kingdom. She is never going to take it from me, and she is never going to make me back away.

Instead, he glared at her. "You accuse me falsely."

Persephone shook her head in mock sorrow, her hands to her heart. "How it hurts me when you lie to me, my lord." She smiled cattishly, rising to her feet. Her red robes rustled across her legs, and Hades suddenly forgot what he was going to say.

His wife glanced at him from underneath her eyelashes, her black eyes dancing with mirth, cajoling and scorning him at the same time. They fluttered, and the Lord of the Dead spluttered angrily on his throne.

"DO NOT-" he began to roar, but she waved away his words dismissively.

"Goodbye dear husband," she said sweetly, smiling. She placed her hands on either side of his throne, bending to meet his eyes. Her skirts swished against his legs, and he stiffened, holding his breath. His eyes held a warning, but she met them with one of her own.

"My dear lord Hades," she whispered, each breath tickling his skin like strands of silk, causing him to shiver, "I am going away for a while." Her eyes were hard and cold, but her smile was sweet, though Hades could read in her lips the subtle menace. "If I find you in bed with a nymph when I return…" Her face suddenly distorted into sorrow, and her voice wheedled high like a mocking bird, "I would _hate _to have to turn the poor idiot into a tree."

Minthe, he thought sadly, remembering. She had been such a spritely, vivacious thing. His wife cleared her throat, eyes boring into his face.

"Goodbye dear," he said cheerfully, leaning forward and kissing her passionately. She jerked back, wiping her sleeve across her lips and shooting him a glare that would have set a mortal into flames. There was no trace of smugness in the curves of her body now. She knew the one limit in her power, the one thing that tied her to him for an eternity, made her wholly and fully his, though she often strained against the bonds. She belonged to the Underworld as much as he ruled it. She could leave, but her cage would always draw her back into its depths.

Persephone would never be free.

And she knew it, in the way she held high her suddenly trembling chin, and restrained herself from fleeing his presence by walking stiffly from the room. Triumphant, Hades blew a kiss to her retreating back.

I hate him! I hate him! Persephone thought angrily, smearing her sleeve across her cheeks to wipe away the maddened tears that trickled down. She had started running as soon as she was out of his sight, and had promptly tripped. Her controlled and icy queen façade had been replaced by her true awkward nature, the one that reached and tried desperately to hide itself from prying, laughing eyes. The one that disguised itself in cruelty and seductiveness, and made herself feel as dirty and soulless as the demons she commanded.

Now she was like Kore, the silly-headed and bumbling girl who'd thought it a piece of pie to fall in love with the multi-dimensioned, multi-powerful Hades. Nevertheless, even if she had been empty-headed and stupid, she had also been true and loyal, innocent and compassionate.

The Iron Queen, Lady of the Dead, her role as wife to Hades, called upon none of those things. With her power had come the dearest cost of all: her soul.

Persephone stumbled past Cerberus, who growled at her and lunged. With a weak wave of her hand, the three-headed dog tripped over its own gigantic feet, whimpering like puppies.

"Oh stop it," she said crossly. "Now you know how I feel when I trip over things."

The ground rumbled as she exited the Gates to the Underworld, the rocky landscape around her dashed with rivers. Before she reached Charon the Ferryman, with his boat full of souls, the earth above her split open, pebbles cascading down like rain to smack her arms and face. A staircase levered itself down to her, and the newly arrived ghosts watched in awe from Charon's ferry.

Her heart wrenched when she thought of how, in the early days, Hades had escorted her to the top, allowing her to walk a few paces to her mother before yanking her back for an embrace and kiss that left her weak-kneed and breathless. She had tripped and stumbled her way to her mother even more back then. The thought of his strong arms around her, his shining, happy eyes, caused her knees to start trembling as she mounted the steps, rising to meet the sunlight above. All of his power and energy, his entire being, focussed on her, made for her.

Then the centuries had passed, and her silly, childish ways had started to bore him. His intelligent talks were met with doe-eyed stares, because she had no notion of what he was talking about. Her dances and joy and giddiness annoyed him. He was a man, she was a stupid girl, Persephone thought bitterly. He had wanted a woman, a queen fit for the desolation surrounding them. Her cheer and sunny disposition, despite his previous belief, had done nothing to make the Underworld a better place, had done nothing to alleviate his own fears of centuries of loneliness. Instead, it had only reminded him that he'd have centuries to live with a girl who could not carry intelligent conversation, make witty remarks, or seduce him. The queen he yearned for did not exist in Kore.

"I showed him," she muttered to herself, halfway up the stairs to home. She had studied and pondered and pestered her mother and other goddesses, particularly Aphrodite, about affairs of women and men. She'd learned ice and revenge and power from Hera, had roared like Zeus until the earth shuddered under her sandals. And she had returned to Hades as a Queen fit for the Dead. His Kore had been shut away into a box, leaving a woman behind.

Hades had soon learned he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Her power and attractiveness made her more a fatal poison than a suitable equal; his love had turned to possessiveness as he'd realized she could think for herself. His wife had quickly destroyed his weak-willed affairs with mortals and nymphs alike, a trait shared by many of the gods. Now it was she alone who could give him what he desired, and she held this key over his head far too often. It made him even more angry and demanding, yet he still could not bear to see his drug taken away. He mocked her with threats of affairs, but she knew they were unfounded.

Since the Iron Queen had arrived, no woman mortal or nymph, besides Minthe, had dared take Hades into bed for centuries. They all feared the fury of Persephone, as well they should. Still, his daring to even mention it made her sad and angry- he was still so petty and angered that he tried to hurt her with dishonour, wanted to make her feel inept and ugly. Persephone would scoff at his attempts, but Kore cried inside of her, bawling for comfort.

It's what made it so hard not to fall to her knees and beg for love from him, the true and honest and sincere passion they'd enjoyed when they'd delighted in each other's company.

The Kore inside of her squirmed for release, her true nature making her feel ill for all her horrid deeds and making her lovesick. She had cursed men to thousands of years of purgatory for minor crimes, had unleashed wrath on innocents because of her own lack of joy.

But there was nothing she could do. If she was going to control Hades, rule her kingdom, she could not allow the Lord of the Underworld to best her in their game. She was desperate for any sort of reprieve, and the satisfaction of seeing him wither in confusion or anger was enough.

For now. However, she missed Kore, and visiting her mother always brought out the maiden inside, though she'd dirtied herself in the God of the Underworld's bed for centuries now. But Kore, sweet, innocent Kore, still seemed as clean and sweet as the clearest mountain stream.

With that last thought, Persephone reached the world above, the sweet-scented breezes of spring rushing to meet her weary embrace. As the earth ground to a close behind her, a lilting voice echoed through her mind like a perverse thought she wanted to wish away: _"Goodbye, my darling. Until autumn, then. I will try to restrain myself until my dove returns."_

Persephone closed her eyes, the sounds and scents of the world she'd missed engulfing her senses enough to wash him away.

When Persephone opened her eyes, she realized she'd fallen asleep. She was in bed at her mother's cottage, a light wind stirring her blankets. She sat up, morning light filtering through the windows to fall across her lap. Flowers lay scattered across the room, and vines trailed from the walls. A bushel of wheat stood in the corner, and her mother bustled around in the back of her mind, trying to resurrect Kore from inside of her for Persephone's visit. She clapped her hands to her head and cried, "Mother, get out of my mind!"

Demeter suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, looking sheepish. "I'm sorry, dear," she said, patting her legs. "You just seem so much sadder and more world-weary each time."

Persephone placed her hand across her chest, as though to guard her heart from her mother's good intentions, which would break the dam of her emotions and childish follies. She'd lose all control to Hades, and ultimately lose the battle.

She would never beg at anybody's feet. Not again.

"You're one to talk," she said wryly, noting her mother's baggy eyelids and creased mouth. "You look a little worse for wear."

"A famine," Demeter sighed. "All the farmers here and there want help." She smiled at her daughter apologetically. "Do you mind helping me? I'm afraid this won't be much of a visit."

Persephone hesitated, unsure if she should participate in something so Kore-like. But her mother needed her, and the thought of doing more good than harm tugged at her like an opportunity she could not pass up.

"Alright," she conceded. Demeter's face broke into a lovely smile, and she suddenly seemed so much younger that her daughter's heart swelled. She tumbled into her mother's hug, burying her face against her mother's chest. "I missed you, Mother," she whispered, blubbering like a baby.

Her mother propped her chin on her head, her arms clutching Persephone tight to her. "I missed you too," she said, stroking her hair soothingly. She smiled wobblingly, then caught sight of her daughter's robes. She sniffed in contempt at the black and red affair of the Queen, with its clinging silk and low neckline.

"No daughter of mine will wear this while helping farmers," she said firmly. "You're more likely to make their wives want to bash their heads in than listen to you."

Persephone nodded, slipping from the dress as Demeter rummaged for appropriate attire. When she turned to face her daughter again, she held a gown that made Persephone freeze. It was a simple thing of white linen, a tunic really, with long flowing sleeves that dangled around the skirt. It left room for bare shoulders, and a design of pomegranates and roses danced across the hems. It was the dress her mother had made for her wedding, to both mourn the loss of her daughter to three pomegranate seeds, but also to express her joy at her daughter's happiness. She had been Kore then, and worn the dress everywhere. The summer she had become Persephone, she had left it behind, never giving it a second thought except in her poignant reveries.

Now Kore seemed to be staring back at her in a mirror, begging for help. Persephone felt herself shaking her head just as she said, "Yes."


	2. Into the Abyss

**A/n: Whilst I base this story off of myths, please keep in mind that I have taken some artistic license. So if something may not be particularly accurate... pretend it is! ;P Please review!- Becky Sky**

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"**He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."-Friedrich Nietzsche **

Hours later, Persephone soared above the earth, the wind fluttering the sleeves of her dress into her face. Below, mountains encased the rocky ground, and farmers struggled with the little fertile soil that existed. Olive trees reached for the clear blue sky, and birds twittered at the goddess as she flew by.

Beside her, Demeter stared down at the wailing soils, her mouth a thin, hard line. Persephone glanced at her mother, her heart suddenly heavy as she noticed Demeter's worry. "Why can't you just help them?" she asked softly. "Why is there a famine in the first place?"

Demeter smiled sadly, laughing with an almost patronizing tone. "My darling daughter, you should know more than anybody else that the gods' powers have limits. Especially mine, as I'm a-" she sniffed disdainfully- "a minor goddess."

Persephone said nothing in return, allowing her eyes to fall back to the ground, with its various attractions and curiosities. "Mother," she asked suddenly, "has there ever been a case where a goddess married a mortal- where it did not end in tragedy?"

Demeter glanced at her sharply, her brow furrowed disapprovingly. "Are you still thinking of Adonis, then?" she asked, giving another of her disheartening sniffs. "That weakling."

Persephone's face flushed crimson, and she felt the heat to the very tips of her toes. Her stomach ached for the feeling of butterflies, the ones that had fluttered inside when Adonis held her close. Perhaps she wasn't much better than Hades, she admitted, but it was only because of his disinterest that she'd ever even thought of Adonis.

"He was kind," she murmured, meeting her mother's piercing, angry gaze indignantly. "He loved me!"

"And Aphrodite," her mother snapped, her fingers twisting her black braid violently with agitation. "Never share a mortal man with another goddess, Persephone. Or mortal for that matter. It only leads to mortal wars and stupidity. Honestly, if Zeus had been more discreet, who knows where mankind could be today."

Thunder rumbled angrily overhead, but Demeter glared up at the darkening sky. "Oh, calm down Thunderbolts," she said snidely. "And you," she turned to her daughter accusingly, "do not end up like the king of the gods. Leave mortals alone."

"And why do you care about mortals?" Persephone asked, her temper flaring at her mother's contempt. Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and her dark hair whipped across her face like a whip. Power streamed across her skin, and blazed out like grey fire. Nearby, a bird spun too close, and, with an ear-splitting shriek, spiralled towards the earth in a fall of bones and ashes. Demeter stared at the dead bird in shock, then looked at her daughter sternly.

"Your power is growing."

Persephone sighed, hands trembling. Inside of her, Kore wept for the sweet bird she'd murdered. Birds had been her friends, had accompanied her on her many adventures as a child. "I know," she said tiredly. "It's because of the Underworld."

Demeter shook her head, lips pursed thoughtfully. "I suppose." However, she didn't sound certain. "Should I ask how Lord Hades is doing?"

"As bored and horrid as ever," Persephone said, not wanting to even breach that subject of conversation.

"You are fortunate he even allowed Adonis to enter the Fields of Asphodel," Demeter said lowly.

Persephone snorted. "I wish he was that jealous and devoted," she said cruelly. "I don't think he truly cared. For all I know, he's bedding another nymph as we speak. He wouldn't want to be lonely all the cold winter long." Her eyes glinted wickedly.

When she realized her mother hadn't answered, Persephone peered at her face, and gasped in shock. Tears glimmered in her mother's green eyes, trickling down her weathered cheeks. "Mother?"

The goddess of the harvest shook her head stubbornly, her chin trembling. She swallowed, steadying herself. "There are two whom I should like you to meet," she answered.

"When?"

"Right now," Demeter said, and snapped her fingers.

Within an instant, mother and daughter were encased in a green glow, then the land below them vanished from sight. It was replaced by the scent of brine, and a sharp, stinging wind lashing Persephone's cheeks. Trees towering to the sky edged the sandy beach, vines drooping between them.

On the soft, sifting sand, two figures argued heatedly. One was a tall, handsome man with tanned skin, dark hair, and wicked green eyes. He was robed in violet, and nymphs trotted around him holding clusters of grapes. Across from him, pale face flushed with anger, was an ebony-crowned beauty, whose brown eyes flickered between docility and pig-headed stubbornness. To the goddess of the Underworld, the woman seemed different from her companion.

"Hello Dionysus," Demeter said languidly, crossing the sand to greet the fellow deity. Dionysus turned to her, pursing his lips in irritation. "What are you doing here?" he asked brusquely, gaze straying behind the goddess to her daughter. His eyes widened, and he whistled. "So is this Persephone, Carrier of Curses?"

The woman turned to Persephone, and her knees quivered as she sank to the ground. Persephone suddenly realized the distinction between this girl and herself; the scent of sweat and fear that radiated from her skin, so stagnant and powerful that the goddess's nose wrinkled. She was mortal.

"So, I am not the only one who plays with mortals?" Persephone asked, eyeing her mother sharply. "Is that the lesson you wished to portray?" She whirled on the girl, eyes searing through her pale, mortal skin.

"And who are you?" Persephone asked her icily.

The girl raised her head to meet her gaze, biting her lip and glaring. Her chin quavered, but she kept it in check. Persephone was surprised to admit that she seemed brave.

"My name is Ariadne," the girl said in a shockingly clear, even voice. "Consort of Dionysus, bride of the wine god. So why should I fear you?" Her tongue tripped over the last words, her mortal fear of the gods stealing her bravery. However, she kept Persephone's eyes, creating a deep respect, if not profound dislike, within Persephone's heart.

"And why should I care who you are?" Persephone returned coolly. "You seem very ordinary to me."

Ariadne's nostrils flared like a horse's, and Persephone tried not to giggle. Then the girl broke the gaze, eyes straying to the sand. "It matters not," she said softly, struggling to her feet. She tripped, and Dionysus caught her in his arms, face going ashen. And it was then that Persephone realized why Ariadne's scent was so repulsive- her mortality was slowly slipping away.

She was dying.

Persephone observed the girl more closely, looking deeper and listening harder for what she knew tingled at the edge of her senses. Then she found it- a bundle of warmth and joy growing steadily colder within Ariadne's abdomen. She was with child, and it was killing her.

"Your babe is dying inside you," she said crisply to Ariadne, and watched in amazement as Dionysus' arms tightened their grip around her protectively.

"Save her," he pleaded.

Persephone shook her head. "No. It is not within my power or my will. I have no concern for your mortal trysts."

Demeter snorted in utter disgust, but Persephone ignored her.

"She's my wife! She's borne me children! Warriors!" Dionysus raged, his eyes glimmering with tears.

"How old is she?" Persephone asked in astonishment, gut twisting at his anguish, reliving once more the misery of watching her own beloved Adonis descend into the Underworld. Then the mortal's voice broke through her reverie, and Persephone contained herself.

"Not very old," Ariadne croaked. "I'm right here; you may speak to me as well, Lady Death."

"Anyways," Persephone continued, "Despite her age, I will not involve myself."

"Why?" Ariadne suddenly exploded, leaping from Dionysus's arms and lunging at the Goddess of Death. Startled, Persephone jerked back, a strange glow, like mist wrapped with her mother's green magic, instantly surging from her body. It smacked the mortal in the chest, sucking the vitality through her skin.

Ariadne choked, stumbling backwards, her body contorting to weird angles. Her eyes were wide and wild, and the stench of death suddenly reeked everywhere.

"NO!" Dionysus roared, falling to his knees beside the gasping Ariadne. He glared up at Demeter, face frantic and feral. "You said she'd help her!" he snarled savagely.

"What?" Persephone turned on her mother in disbelief, lips tight with anger. "You had this _planned_?"

Her mother gazed back at her calmly, the very essence of a goddess whose power may have seemed minimal, but could kill within an instant. Self-confidence oozed from her like the grossest bubbling goo of the Underworld, making Persephone shudder. "Yes," Demeter said curtly, unimpressed with her daughter's wrath.

"WHY?" A strange wind began to blow, whipping her maidenly skirts around her legs. Suddenly she wished for her imposing black and red robe, wished for her ashen cheeks and dark powers. It would show she was not one to be messed with, by mere mortals or mothers.

"So you could see that love exists within a union of gods. And-"

Persephone aimed a finger at the dying girl. "She's no god," she hissed.

"Not yet," Ariadne hacked, chest heaving with agonized breaths. Persephone glared at the girl, and a single strand of curl above her forehead singed, smoke hissing into the air. Demeter laid a restraining hand on her arm, then glanced apologetically at the god of wine, who now cradled Ariadne in his arms, weeping softly.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, her disappointment in Persephone's actions apparent in the drooping of her shoulders, like a wilted plant.

Something that felt like guilt punched Persephone in the gut, but she reminded herself that true gods felt no remorse. Think of Hera, she thought.

And where's Hera now? An inner voice, used to being pushed to the side, asked her. Feared but unloved, used but not wanted.

_I tried to make him love me! _Persephone screamed at herself. _I tried, and it didn't work! We're just more miserable! _

If he got bored of the old you, that is his problem. But does he love the new you any better? Or maybe he's realized what he's missing?

_Shut up, _she snarled. _Just shut up, Kore! _

Oh, alright, the voice said meekly.

Persephone shivered, stealing a glance sideways to see if her mother had witnessed her crazy conversation, but Demeter had vanished, along with Dionysus and Ariadne, leaving her completely alone.

Instead, a sad voice wavered into her ears, her mother's departing notion. _"And I brought you here to become Kore again. Hades may not miss her, but I do." _

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When Persephone finally returned to Demeter's cottage, her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair tangled and knotty, and she felt nauseous. She wondered if the close encounters with human souls allowed her to feel their pain, or if it was possible for gods to become ill.

Stepping across the threshold, she peeked inside to see if her mother was around. A gentle wind blew throughout the house, tagging shutters and wafting hay into the air like dust motes. However, that was all she noticed. The house, like her heart, felt empty, a void she couldn't fill on her own.

For all she was a goddess, Persephone suddenly felt as weak and helpless as a newborn mortal babe. Sinking to her knees, she banged her fists against the ground, the pain clearing her head, leaving room for concise thought.

For the first time, she realized numbly, she hated it here. Her fists clenched together tightly, nails digging deep into her palms, drawing blood. "I hate it!" she shouted, her words booming through the vicinity, then bouncing right back at her like a hurtful accusation.

Once more, she felt like a little girl unable to get her way, the feeling of sinking lower and lower into her mother's bad graces as painful as heartbreak. The abyss seemed to open wider and wider, swallowing her up slowly in small, painful bites.

Only one thing could free her, she knew. But that thing was as fragile as butterfly wings, and, once attained, could only fly for so long before it died.

If she did go back to being Kore, could she ever survive the Underworld, much less Hades?

Persephone did not think so.

A tiny bird flew the window, landing on her shoulder. It preened her, sliding her thick curls through its beak. Tears slid down her cheeks like rain, and, for a moment, she allowed her heart to open. The warmth and comfort of an endearing creature wanting to be near took advantage of her weakened state; the feel of holding back her nature exhausted her.

Persephone covered her head with her hands and wept, embracing the vulnerability, and Kore, for just a little while.


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